


The First Sentence

by marshalmeg



Category: Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-19
Updated: 2009-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-04 16:19:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshalmeg/pseuds/marshalmeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dawson patches up Basil after the final confrontation with Rattigan, and we see a glimpse of the future...</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Sentence

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lynndyre](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lynndyre/gifts).



Exhaustion crept up quietly and attacked Doctor Dawson, inspiring such a fierce yawn that he was forced to delay opening his medical bag until it passed.  He blinked, than shook his head slightly, ruffling his mustache.

"Steady there, Dawson," the doctor muttered to himself, unfastening the latch on his bag and getting a familiar whiff of aged leather and foreign military service - a combination of dried blood and exotic spices.  "Needle... surgical silk... bandages..." He noted each item as he removed them from the bag and placed them in a neat order upon the small scrap of open tabletop he had managed to clear.  

There was a decidedly ordered chaos to Basil's flat that Dawson could not bring himself to disturb.  Instinctively he had begun to brush a few loose papers, pens, scraps of various fabrics, and an empty glass aside but he had stopped short.  Could this be evidence from another unsolved case or even some scientific experiment in progress?  Surely it could not be the disorganized pile of assorted things that it appeared.  The doctor heart a squeak from a sofa spring, a brushing of fabric against fabric.  He glanced over his shoulder, brow furrowed.

"Basil!  What did I--"

"Sorry old chap," Basil said, the same terrified-but-sheepish look Dawson had originally seen... How long ago had it been now?  Only a matter of hours?... during his passing confrontation with the housekeeper over the destruction of her good pillows.  He had risen up on one arm but settled back onto the sofa.

Satisfied with his supplies, Dawson poked his head beyond a curtain and in to the adjoining room.  Mrs. Judson promptly pressed a large bowl of warm water and several towels into his hands.  Struggling a bit with the weight and size Dawson managed to get both onto a table near the sofa with minimal spillage.

"Yes, thank you.  If you could check on..."

"Of course, poor things!" the housekeeper interrupted, disappearing in a swish of blue skirts and ruffled cap.

Having given Olivia and her father a quick once-over, Dawson had seen them off to a comfortable upstairs bed with a plate of cheese crumpets and a glass of milk for Olivia and a brandy for Mr. Flaversham.

"You're... quite the doctor."  As with all of the compliments that Basil had given him since their initial acquaintance, this was tinged with embarrassment.  Basil was not a mouse used to given compliments and Dawson could see why.  So, coming from Basil, any compliments were more flattering.

"Well... you know." Dawson shrugged his shoulders a little, hoping his mustache would hide some of the pink gathering in his cheeks.  He dipped one of the cloths into the water.  "Just hold still.  This might sting a bit."  The doctor stared at the ragged, bloody scratches covering Basil's back and arms.  Where to begin?  After further consideration he opted for a 'worst first' approach.  Basil whimpered and bit down on his bottom lip, looking away.  Dawson kept up his work, working slowly and methodically.  "That was some adventure, eh Basil?  I think it was the most exciting thing I've ever done.  I can imagine that you've been through a few others that..."

"Oh no, Dawson.  Nothing compares to," Basil gritted his teeth for a moment.  "Putting an end to the reign of terror of that fiend Rattigan!"  He gave a sofa cushion a smack to punctuate the point.  "But there is one thing that..." Dawson watched at the detective's expression fell and something twitched in the pit of the doctor's stomach.  He recognized that expression from their capture in Rattigan's underground lair and braced himself for a return of that overpowering melancholy that had nearly cost them their lives.  "Somehow I am disappointed."

"Disappointed!" Dawson exclaimed with a forced laugh.  He had finished cleaning the cuts and now began to mix a few medicines and thread a needle.  "My dear fellow how can you possibly be disappointed?!  Yes there was a bit of bad patch there but it was a minor mistake... and... and it all came out alright in the end.  What a stunning finish!"

"Oh Dawson... you have never had a nemesis, have you?  One great force of evil you devoted years to opposing!" some of Basil's characteristic animation returned.

"Well... disease, I suppose?"  Dawson dabbed some strong-smelling liquid onto a wad of cotton and began to apply it to numb the worst areas that were in need of stitching.  _You've sewn your torn cuff together..._ He glanced at the sew cuff fondly.

"Yes, yes, certainly but disease is impossible to defeat.  You make minor headway against it in tiny areas but... Dawson, I must remind myself that Rattigan was not the only source of crime in London, even if he was behind the most exciting bits of it.  I wonder if I will be bored."

"I shouldn't think so."  The doctor continued to work.  "Basil, I have been thinking, in what little time I've had to devote to that occupation... and I wonder if you would mind if I were to write a little account of the case?"  Dawson paused, hanging on the response.  It did not come immediately so the doctor cleared his throat.  "I dabbled a bit with a pen in Afghanistan, during my service there, but I was never very pleased with it... little ramblings about a teapot or a fresh cheddar scone with a bit of..." Dawson's stomach reminded him of its existence and emptiness at this.  "But this!  I think there are so many mice who would enjoy the account, if I can do it justice."

"Really?" Basil blinked as though the idea had never occurred to him.  Dawson reasoned it might not have, being occupied with the actual work of solving cases.  "Well, if you like, Dawson.  Though I have to ask that you focus on the actual process of deduction.  That being the important part."

The doctor nodded, tieing off a thread.  "There, that's looking much better.  And, yes, of course, if you think so, Basil.  I would want you to approve of anything I wrote, of course."

Dawson fetched a few rolls of bandages, then thought to pour a sherry.  He regarded the glass, added a bit more, then offered it to Basil who accepted much to the doctor's delight and reassurance.  He had sewn officers of Her Majesty's Army back together while they bellowed orders to their less-impaired subordinates without flinching.  Basil, brilliant and polite as he was, managed to terrify.  What did it mean?  Dawson pondered it.  An emotional investment?  If so, what sort?

"Yes, of course.  I must admit that this adventure has piqued my curiosity, Basil.  I... I would like to hear about some of your other cases.  I imagine you remember all of them... down to the tiniest detail."

Basil grinned.

"And you would not be wrong, my dear Dawson."

The doctor began to wrap bandages, hoping he would have enough and not need to trouble the housekeeper further.  This process went faster than the previous two.

"You must tell me!  Any with as charming a girl as Olivia?  Or a plot as dastardly as Rattigan's attempt to create a clockwork doll of The Queen?"  Dawson snapped off a piece of bandage with an over-sized pair of scissors, trying to guess what purpose Basil typically used them for of if they had been involved in some case he would be privilidge enough to document.  "But I am getting ahead of myself.  You need to rest."

"Don't fuss, doctor."

"I am not fussing!  But, yes, it can wait until morning.  I'm rather insulted that no one has taken up the job yet!"

Though on consideration, the doctor could not image Basil getting along terribly well with most.  He could be charming, but there had been that outburst of temper, his difficulty with Olivia that had somehow not dampened the girl's exuberant charm.

Basil muffled a yawn in a sofa cushion, sipped his sherry, then yawned again.

"Almost finished.  And I'm sure the best cases have not even been solved yet," Dawson gave a reassuring smile.  "Feeling a bit better now, Basil?"

"Yes, thank you, doctor."  The detective closed his eyes slowly, his seemingly-endless energy finally deserting him though the doctor knew it would resurface soon enough.

"When I think about it, Basil... what you said about boredom.  This was the most exciting experience of my life!  I don't think I will ever top it... I suppose I should just be grateful that it happened."  Dawson began to re-pack his doctor's bag.

"Yes," Basil muttered.  His whiskers fluttered gently as his breathing slowed into sleep.

"Well... yes... of course.  Good-night, Basil."

"...night.. Dawson..."

The doctor stood, watching his sleeping patient for several long and contented minutes.  Touched with a sudden inspiration he pulled a blanket from the back of the sofa and arranged it over Basil before settling himself in one of the armchairs over the fire.  He selected the green once as Basil had demonstrated some preference for the red.  Reaching into his pocket he fished around for a small notebook that he always carried, fearing for a moment that it had been lost somewhere over London and fallen on top of some poor mouse's head.  With a relieved sigh his fingers touched paper.  Retrieving a quill and ink pot from the mantel (everything useful in the flat seemed to congregate there) he opened to a fresh page.

Dawson tapped the tiny feather against his mustache, looked over at Basil once again and smiled a contented smile.

_It was the eve of our good Queen's Diamond Jubilee and the year Her Majesty's government came too..._

It was as much as the good doctor wrote before succumbing to a deep and restful sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there, dear recipient and dear readers!
> 
> I hope you have enjoyed this little friendship fic. Personally, I like to think I tried my best but being the perfectionist I am I can't help but think it does not stand up to the work I produced last year... the only Yuletide submission I have ever been truly content with. When I received my assignment I was thrilled to write a story base upon my favorite childhood film but when I actually sat down to do it... such a huge challenge!
> 
> I also beg the forgiveness of all as my time-frame for producing this story coincided with the start of a new full-time job for me, after a year of recession-inspired unemployment. I fear the quality may have suffered due to these circumstances.
> 
> As more of a kink writer, I freely admit this about myself, gen always presents a challenge. I hope that I have succeeded in my portrayal of the friendship between Basil and Dawson. I did originally envision something told from Dawson's point of view in the vein of the original Sherlock Holmes works but I opted for 3rd person in the spirit of my recipient's Yuletide letter. I love Basil and Dawson so because I find them more accessible than their human counterparts. Basil is more human and more emotional than Holmes, in particular, while still being brilliant. It's preferable, really. I have tried to convey that.
> 
> But I do ramble on! I simply hope you are pleased. Happy Holidays!


End file.
